


Of darkest night and brightest white

by Tanachvil



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Comfort Sex, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Friends With Benefits, Romantic Friendship, Satinalia (Dragon Age), but just a bit, post Solas Lavellan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-11
Updated: 2020-12-11
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:40:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28003284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tanachvil/pseuds/Tanachvil
Summary: Satinalia is that time of the year when everyone is cheerful and happy and Iveani Lavellan just cannot join in the holiday spirit.Corypheus is dead, the world is mending itself and Solas... Solas is gone.When Feastday comes to the end, Iveani finds herself searching for the only other person in Skyhold that seems to be unable to enjoy the festive spirit.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor & Varric Tethras, Female Inquisitor/Varric Tethras
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20
Collections: Satinalia 2020





	Of darkest night and brightest white

**Author's Note:**

> ** For the Dragon Age Fanfiction Writers Discord server Satinalia collection **
> 
> My first fluff ever, oh boy. Here we go.  
> (absolutely un-betaed because I have zero patience and need to spit things out while I have momentum. Please be kind.)

It was just like that. One of those days when even the most practiced facade could not truly hide what she felt, when smiling and nodding, and acting like everything was just perfect only served as a reminder that it wasn’t. 

Satinalia at Skyhold, just after they finally dealt with Corypheus, with the rifts closed and the wounds healing, with people starting to actually think of the future while the year rolled towards the end. 

It was a time for celebration indeed, and it seemed like everyone at Skyhold was taking that very seriously: it had been a week of drinking and songs and masks, some of them elegant and traditional, some of them crude and silly, some made out of leaves and ribbon and old parchment, some made of leather, paint and berries and all around it was warm and welcoming and Iveani could not feel more miserable.

She had liked masks, at first. It was something strange and elegant and so pretty to look at, and she had always found the idea of hiding and changing one’s features with a beautiful piece of art fascinating. She had been almost disappointed when Josephine had told her that they were not going to wear a mask to Halamshiral. It looked like the perfect occasion to join in on the fun, after all… and then she had changed her mind almost immediately. 

The memory of the lies, the hypocritical mess of deceiving nobles, gambling with the lives of nations and spending the coin of elven blood like it was cheap, inconsequential, had married itself to the idea of masks ever since and had ruined the fun of it entirely. 

And now, of course, there was her face. Her absolutely still marked and in that way completely unmasked face, with her vallaslin ready to meet her every morning in the mirror, and with that the memory, still sharp and painful of what he had said to her that night… Was it just months ago? Not even four? It felt like decades, eons ago, ages had passed since Solas had offered to change her and then had ended things between them like it was all just a mistake. 

She walked through the hall, on that final night of Satinalia, with her heart heavy and her head slightly clouded by the wine Cassandra had given her as a gift. 

The echo of laughter in her ears, Krem telling stories with the fire roaring beside him, Bull in the corner, looking at Dorian with a sweet sadness in his eye, like he couldn't understand or believe what he had in his arms, and Cole smiling, delighted by some trick Dalish had just shown him, while everyone eat and drank.

It had been peaceful, after a day of games and fun and gifts and joy. 

She never really cared for the holidays they celebrated in Orlais and Ferelden - her people didn’t do it, after all - and she was new to most of them, but it seemed to matter a great deal to the people of Skyhold, to _ her people  _ now, and it seemed like they needed the excuse to let the tension go after all that had happened all they had lost, all they had fought for.

There was just not enough wine or honeyed treats to make her feel less empty and less angry, to be honest.

He had left. Just like that, without a warning or a goodbye, he was gone.  
One minute they were talking about the broken orb and the next…   
She had been the first one to say she needed some distance, after he had ended things, but she had just ran away to the Frostback Basin, met a legend, rewrote history, fought a dragon-god, recruited a bear, and then she had come _back_. Back to Skyhold, back to him and to the rest of her people, back to fight again, to share the burden again, to celebrate their victory together again. 

He had not. Now that their goal was accomplished he apparently didn’t feel the need to stay any longer. He was simply gone. And she was sad, and angry and probably slightly drunk.

_ Lavellan, get your shit together! _

Even her own inner voice sounded whiny to her. She hated it.

She let the entrance to the hall behind her and looked up. Vivienne’s attic was dark, like it had been since the day she left, just the soft light of the snowy night casting shadows from the big window on the upper walkways, where someone was passing, without a lamp, silently towards the doors.

_ Was that? Oh, he was not at the Herald either, wasn’t he?  _

She tried to recall the last time she had seen Varric that day, and realized it had been in the afternoon, just before the dance and the presents, and all that mess with the drinking game Sera swore was a tradition that could not be overlooked.

Getting up quickly and without crossing paths with anyone was a bit too easy, it made her think about how simple it would be to sneak into the fortress unnoticed on a night like that, with everyone celebrating and not at all vigilant. But it was a moment, just a thought on the back of her head while she got to the door on the attic and unlocked the latch to get to the outside walkways.

The wind hit her like a whip, and frozen snow whirled around her feet while she tried to close the door behind her. It was so much colder up there, and she really was not wearing enough layers to be walking carelessly in the snow. The icy snow, heavy with water, clung to her immediately, to her boots, her clothes, her hair.

Varric’s door was the second one and it was closed, but a soft orange light was seeping through the cracks and she hurried towards it, eager to get out of the wind.

“Varric? Are you there? Can I come in?”

The door opened almost immediately as soon as she was done knocking and she didn't waste any time getting in and closing it behind her.

“Inquisitor? Andraste’s ass, get in, get in! 

There was a small fire going on the opposite wall, burning bright enough to light the room and warm it up, and a tall candle had just been lit on the desk, the smell of wax warming up just starting to fade. 

It was a small room, but it had been clearly well stocked and cared for. The people at Skyhold liked Varric and it showed: an assortment of worn carpet covered the stone floor, the colors mismatched but making the space feel warm and soft, a red plush cushion sat atop the chair that Varric had just clearly got up from, heavy curtains covered the little window and a small shelf sported an assortment of books, quills, stacks of parchment and wine bottles, most of them full. Bianca was lovingly propped on a second chair, not too close to the fire, not too far.

“I’m sorry Varric, I didn’t mean to intrude…” she started. 

Despite his usually rowdy public facade, she had come to know Varric as a very private person and she had basically just followed him to his rooms without so much as asking permission or being given, at any point, any kind of invitation to do so. 

“Don’t be absurd, Icicle!” The dwarf pushed her towards the chair and walked to the shelf with the bottles, “You are always welcome. I’m just sorry I don’t have anything more comfortable to offer than the chair… Oh, they wanted to give me one of those Orlesians stuffed monstrosities, you should have seen it… I think it’s in Madame De Fer’s attic now. I really didn’t want anyone to drag a gigantic couch up here just to cram it in a space that really no one ever gets to use much except for sleeping and writing…”

While he talked, she took his face in and she realized he was having the same kind of trouble she had with keeping up the facade and was employing the exact same strategy to walk around the problem: he talked too much and had drank too much.

“We missed you at the feast, down at the  _ Herald _ .”

He stopped talking and gave her a smile that was all she needed to confirm she’d been right. He also gave her a mug with some wine in it and she gladly took it, realizing she didn’t really think about what she was going to say once she got up here. She just wanted to share her sadness with someone else who was…. Not feeling the festive spirit, to put it mildly. 

“Yeah. I wasn’t… I didn't feel like the best addition to the party, tonight. I’m sorry. I thought the young Vint would have taken up the mantle of storyteller for the night, don’t tell me he let me down like that...” 

He took the bottle and he sat on the bed that was just in front of the desk and beside the hearth. His tone was light, but his voice a little too rough, a little more raspy than usual, like he was trying too much.

Iveani sighed and got up from the chair. She walked the short distance to the fireplace and placed the mug on the mantle. She took her boots off quickly and put them close to the fire to dry, then, taking her mug back, she climbed on the bed and got herself comfortable, cross legged on the opposite side of Varric, cuddling her wine and looking at a hint of smile and a fake shocked expression that appeared on the dwarf’s face.

“You know what? Cut the crap, Varric. We’re both too old and have been through too much together to tiptoe around each other like Oleasian maids.”  
She sipped her wine. It tasted slightly too sweet and she knew Cole had, at some point, had something to do with it.

“When I was growing up I had this friend, more like a sister, actually, older than me. She’s a huntress, she told me how to shoot arrows and to climb without making noise. I never really learned to be a good hunter but fortunately I was a mage… She is the best, and the worst. When we were sad, sometimes she just got some nuts and honey and some wine, and we hid in the aravel, under a pile of furs and talked. We told each other stories. Sometimes we actually talked about what was going on. And sometimes we just stayed there and looked at time pass. In silence. That’s good too, if you feel more like it.”

Varric sighed. He looked down at his hands, at the bottle, then stood up, took his boots off and sat back on the bed, on the other side, with his back propped against the wall.

They didn’t speak for a long time. The fire crackled. The wind outside howled and the curtains in the room swayed slightly from side to side.

After what seemed like forever, Varric put the bottle down on the floor and spoke, almost too quietly to be heard. 

“Sometimes it gets like this. Especially around Satinalia. I don’t know if it’s the wine, the people, the sense of… mandatory happiness, you know? It just feels too much.”

She had sneaked her feet under the heavy quilted blanket and she nodded.

“Are you worried about them? Sorry… that’s… Of course you’re worried, but, I mean…”

Varric snorted and almost laughed. “Beyond worried. I… I’d want to be with them, but then I know I’d be in the way and that they can just take care of themselves, and then I remember the mess that Blondie is in, and Hawke is just too proud and too much of a mess himself to admit when he’s in over his head and the Maker knows… Yeah. That. And then there's, you know…”

Varric shook his head and just glanced for a second towards Bianca, in the corner.

Of course. That as well.

“Did she… Has she written to you after all that mess with the lyrium?”

“Oh, yeah. She did. And I did. We’re _very_ good at writing, you know, the both of us. Well, I’m better, but that’s a given…” He passed his hand on his face and sighed. “It’s over. It’s really over, this time. We’re done. Shit. I hadn't said it out loud yet.”

Iveani had a moment of conflict. She jerked up, with the immediate instinct to reach for him. But then she stopped and froze midway, unsure if it was really the right thing to do.  
They never had the sort of relationship that involved a lot of touching, not like the bear hug that she wanted to give him now. They patted each other, they had hugged on occasion, she had sat comfortably close to him and they had shared a tent more than once, but she didn't want to cross boundaries, she was always too impulsive, eager, Solas always said that she… _Fuck_. Fuck it.

She got up on her knees and crossed the distance between them in a heartbeat. The moment after, she was hugging him, uncomfortably tight and with no grace whatsoever.

Varric froze for a second. Then he got his arms around her as well, and squeezed, while he let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding.  
They stayed like that for a while, holding each other on the crumpled covers, with her small frame enveloping him and his arms just pressing her even more close to himself. It took him a couple of tries to actually speak.

“It… It was time. You know? At some point I was getting more angry than sad and… Yeah.”

He began rubbing circles on her back with his right hand, she eased off a bit, letting him breath properly and snuggled beside him, with her back to the wall, not letting go of him but giving him room to distance himself a bit if he wanted. 

She knew she liked to stay close to people, to hug her friends to share space with the people she loved, but she also knew that most people, especially humans and dwarves, weren't like that. Bull had no problem with her climbing on his lap and getting warm on the furnace that he apparently was hidden somewhere inside him and he appreciated the way she joked and goofed around with him, but Dorian was absolutely appalled by her “lack of manners” as he called it and she had realized pretty soon that he was not the physical type, unless it involved some more charged kind of intimacy. But Varric? She had no idea. So she left him the room to comfortably put some distance between them. He didn’t.

“But you know what I’m talking about,” he continued, “You’re plenty angry yourself. You should probably… I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

She turned around to look at him.

“Hey. It’s fine. I’m… I’d like to hear that.”

“No you don’t.” he blurted out, with a self deprecating note that didn’t escape her notice, then huffed out, half laughter and half scoff. “I’m sorry. I won’t blame you if you’ll punch me in the face for pointing this out, but you should probably let  _ him  _ go as well.”

She looked at him, confused. “Varric… It’s not like he left me with much of a choice. He let go for me. It’s over. He’s gone.” and saying that, she realized, still hurt so much she almost choked on it. 

“Oh, Icicle… no. He might be gone, but you are so not done with him. I don’t blame you, mind me, I would be the biggest asshole ever if I did, where I come from. Honestly… But you’re still with him. Still love the haughty jackass, haven't let him go one bit. And maybe, I’m just saying, maybe you should consider it.”

She didn’t know what to say. He was right, of course. Crap. Varric had this annoying tendency to always be right, it was kind of infuriating, to be honest. 

She let out a long breath and then got back in Varric’s space fully, snuggling up to him and tucking her head under his chin. He didn't give any sign of surprise or resistance this time and they settled in, in silence for a little while. When she spoke, her voice was small, almost too quiet to be heard.

“Can’t.”

“I know.”

It was quiet, so quiet that they knew, even without looking outside, it had started snowing for real, soft and light, and all the world was muffled, painted in contrast of darkest night and brightest white.

She sighed and took one of Varric’s hands in hers, then kissed him softly on the knuckles. Almost immediately, he kissed her head, as in reply. She was taller than him when standing, but while they were like that, enveloped in one another, he was large enough to engulf her completely and she felt just at peace and safe and whole, like she had not felt in months.

  
  
  
  


“Varric.” It was so late now that the fire had started dwindling down and the room was beginning to feel colder.

“Mmm…” his voice was just a low rumble, vibrating from his chest to her back. He had started petting her hair back like he’d pet a cat, almost absentmindedly, didn’t notice since when, and now he was just keeping that on, like a perpetual motion, waves of little touches on her head, her forehead, her temples, the shell of her ears.

“Can I kiss you?”

He didn't stop, didn't freeze this time, didn’t feel startled at all.

“Yeah you can. You want that?”

She chuckled, just a short little uff of breath and laughter, and she felt him do the same behind her.

“I do, yes, I think I really do. You don’t mind?”

“Sweetheart, let’s be clear on this: not one bit.”

She turned around while he was still speaking, in time to catch his last word on her lips and swallow the little “humpf” that got out of him when she plastered herself to him.  
He tasted like wine and honey and his stubble was coarse and wonderful against her skin.

Varric put his arms around her once more, holding her against his heart with one hand and digging his fingers in her hair with the other, he let her kiss him, like she asked, let the press of her lips be soft and maddening and her little nips on his own mouth made him moan low and softly, while she echoed him with her own voice.

“Varric…” Iveani opened her eyes and found herself staring into him, a smirk on his face and something soft and at the same time starting to burn hot in his gaze.

He ran his lips softly on her nose, her cheek, and almost as light as a whisper on the shell of her ear. “Sweetheart… Now…  _ Can I  _ kiss you?”   
  
His voice was low, it went and stirred something deep in her and sent a shiver down her spine that made her almost gasp out loud. She nodded, not trusting her voice to sound dignified and just started to think about replying with something snarky about it being not much of a difference if  _ she  _ kissed him or  _ he  _ did, right?   
Wrong.

Varric ate her up. His mouth was hot, his lips slightly rough, and he rumbled in approval as she just surged against him. He kissed like he was trying to devour her, like his tongue was mapping out every word she had ever said, like the air he needed to breathe was hidden inside her. When he bit her lower lip, just shy of actually breaking skin, she found herself with one hand firmly planted over his heart, tangled in his hair there, and the other at the back of his head. She realized she had at some point left a red mark on his shoulder with the hand that was now instead touching every inch of his chest and that his own hands were now cruising steadily down her spine towards her ass. 

“I feel like this is going a little beyond kissing…” Varric murmured against her mouth, not letting her go, but giving her the opportunity to assess the situation. 

“Yeah… I kind of noticed that.”

“And you’re fine with that, yes? Just checking?”

“Varric…” She had to swallow and try a second time, because he was doing something with his left hand on her back that gave her the strangest sensation of being played like a lute and set waves of shivers up and down her skin. “Varric… Can I stay? Tonight, I mean. With you.”

“Of course you can sweetheart.” He kissed her, almost chastly this time, softly. 

“I mean… Can we actually please fuck each other silly? I kind of think it would make us feel a lot better. But only if you think tha…”

She didn’t get to finish the sentence.

Varric was on top of her and suddenly she was not looking at the room or the wall anymore, but at the ceiling, while a very amused looking dwarf was getting her out of her clothes. 

She never wore her Skyhold outfit anymore since Vivienne had pointed out it resembled some sort of night clothing and made her look ridiculous, but her doublet had just the same amount of buckles and hooks and it usually took her a while to get undressed in the evenings.

Varric did that in the time it took her to realize it was happening.

She looked at his hands in disbelief.

He smirked.

The asshole.

And then his mouth was on her once again, on her breasts, kissing the small mounds and touching them with calloused hands until her nipples were hard as everite peaks. 

He didn’t bite her, and she was so glad he didn’t, because then it would have been impossible not to think about the one person who loved to do that for hours - She had always loved a bit of teeth on her, but after Solas, she thought, she was probably going to always think about him when… She shook her head and refused to let her mind go there. 

To do so, she decided it was time the dwarf lost a bit of his clothing as well.

But when she got up to remove his tunic and belt she realized Varric was already naked from the waist up.

Seriously… how did he do that? Was that some kind of trick they taught you in the merchant’s guild? Was that just talent? 

She decided it was time to show him some Dalish trick as well, the sort that came in quite handy when you were in the woods and needed to be smart about your surroundings. And one had to keep on the lookout while the other got busy… Like she was about to do.

She got up and flipped them over with one fluid motion, a smug expression on her face.

Varric sighed and watched her pepper kisses on his stomach, the muscles under his skin tensing every time she touched him. He was scarred, she noticed, here and there, more than she’d ever could have guessed, and some of the lines on his skin were angry and jagged and at least one spoke of something incredibly painful and that should have killed him, but she filed that away for another time. Now she wanted him to feel good, not think about the past.

Iveani took him in her mouth and Varric threw his head back, his breath caught in a gasp. She started slowly, softly, teasingly, making him almost groan in frustration and then she took him in, with one fluid motion, tight and hot and with her tongue tracing around him. He was a bit thick for her to do this easily, but she got the hang of it using her hands and tongue together and getting him deep to the back of her throat just when he started to pant and flex his thighs.

“Iveani! Maker’s… .fuck!” Varric eyes were wide open and his breath ragged. He grabbed at her shoulders and dragged her up along his body just before claiming her mouth with his own and kissing her fiercely. She could still feel him twitch slightly against her thigh now and the moisture she’d left there had tasted of impending release. 

“Something wrong?” She asked smugly, whispering her words on his cheeks, her hands already finding his chest once more and teasing his nipples one at the time.

“Yeah, gloat all you want, you deserve it… But I think I have something in mind that you might like even better…”    
Varric got her under him and his hand traced the edge of her thigh, the curve where her hip met her leg, until she parted her legs a bit more and then he got to work.

“I am going to see how many new Dalish words I can learn, let’s see…”

His fingers pressed lightly on her outer lips, parting them, but not getting between them, she felt cool air on her and then pressure around her mound and that surely wouldn’t… and then she moaned, without even realizing it, and tensed, as Varric started to pick just the right spot, just the exact inches of skin, of tender tissue, to make her feel like she just got really, really drunk really really fast.

Varric worked in circles, slowly, until she started to squirm and then dipped quickly into her, a tease, a taste, then another, then his thumb got on her nub, just some pressure, without moving, and she screamed

“ _ Halani  _ !”

“Help? I know that one, sweetheart, do you need assistance?”

“Fuck...Varric…”

“That is ...not Dalish.”

He didn’t stop, his fingers now getting less gentle, less teasing, and starting to explore her more deeply. She could feel a tingle building behind her eyes, a pressure still far away, but there were shivers, like an electric current, running through her and she knew she had to be careful, since it wouldn have been the first time she had accidentally literally sparked lightning while…

Varric brought her back to him and she felt him deep inside her now, his fingers touching places she could never really exactly name or reach, that got her to pant out again

“ _ I… isala.. _ .”

“Hmmm.... Yes? That one I don’t know, but maybe i can guess…”   
  
“I need… please…”

“Ah, sure, more?”

He pushed hard inside her and down with the heel of his hand on her mound and then again, moving only slightly faster than before and adjusting the pressure every time she tensed a bit more. Iveani threw her head back and muttered 

“ _ Din’venavisdinvenavisdinvenavisss… _ ”

And then she crashed and felt her whole body go up in flames, and someone was panting really hard and she realized it was her, and she could feel Varric look at her with his mouth open like in awe and then there was nothing and she was falling.

She came back to herself in a moment, but she found out she had turned face down on the bed and Varric was now at her back, caressing her side, her thigh, and treading his fingers through her hair with the hand that was supporting him propped on his side, waiting for her to come back.

Then his hand trailed up, from the leg to her ass, and he cupped it possessively, and she felt him against her, hard and hot just behind her.

Iveani got on her side too and snaked herself on him, feeling silly for a moment and moving her ass against his erection, left to right, like she was trying to slither away.

He grabbed her with an arm around her waist that felt like a vice and another on her hair that pulled her head back enough so he could claim her mouth. Then, with a roll of his hips against her, he slid himself down the cleft of her ass and then up, between her wet lips and inside her, in one fluid slow motion.

The air went out of them both.  
She arched into him and he grunted like he was in pain for a second, then he whispered “Iveani…” into her ear.

She felt like she was coming home, like getting into a warm bath after a snowstorm, and at the same time everything was getting electric and tingling again. Varric began to move against her and she moaned so loud she could swear they’d heard her down at the Herald’s Rest, oh well…

They got a rhythm between them, like waves crashing the shore, and Varric could swear he heard her babbling something else in elven but couldn’t understand what, and after all he wasn't really in the mind for some Dalish lessons anymore. 

She was burning hot and her skin literally gave off little sparks and jolts of light every time they joined. He pushed hard against her and kept her there, holding her firmly with his arm and she cursed - he was sure that was a curse of some kind - and then they got back at the beginning and they started to dance again and again and he let his hand slide down her belly and on her mound.   
She cried out when he touched her and suddenly everything was bright and he felt his control going and she squeezed him hard inside her and he was done, done and gone and his everything was bliss and nothing mattered or hurt anymore.

  
  


After a while, they moved. After a while they got under the heavy quilted cover that now sported a couple of burnt patches here and there, and they laughed about it plenty.

After another while, they were floating in darkness, the fire now just embers, and dawn not too many hours ahead. She was drifting, slowly, towards sleep and could feel him breathing slower and slower as well, settling into a new strange comfortable intimacy none of them actually was very accustomed to. 

“Varric…”

“...Yes.” He replied after a second or two, his voice low and almost completely muffled against the top of her head. 

She snuggled more closely to him, her hands on his chest, her leg across him.

“Are you all right?” She whispered as well, didn’t dare to raise her voice and disturb the night.

“I am more than alright, sweetheart.”

“I mean… I don’t know what… I don't want this to make things…”

“Icicle?”

“Yes?”

“Don’t fret.”

“Mmm…”

“Sleep.”

  
  


  
“Varric…”   
  
“Mmmmph…”   
  
“That was awesome.”

“Yeah. That was something else.”

“We’re good.”

“Iveani, sleep.”

  
  
“Varric…?”

  
“...”

  
  
“Happy Satinalia.”   


**Author's Note:**

> Oookay. I had not written anything in a long while and this popped up by itself.  
> While I was editing this, the Game Awards trailer came out. And we got Varric's voice and...yeah, it kinda felt right.  
> Everyone is a terrible sap here and they feel all the feels, but I kinda felt like writing this like this, for some reason.  
> Iveani is my newest Inquisitor, I'm doing a let's play with her on twitch and YT and inevitably I'm growing pretty attached to her. Her name means "fade touched".  
> apparently not just fade, uh...


End file.
